


hot as a fever (rattling bones)

by bottomlinsons (grimgrace)



Series: Lesbian!Alphas [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ABO verse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, Genderswap, Girl Direction, also lady sex on a pool table, everyone is a cis!girl, except niall, girl!direction, lady love, you're fucking welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimgrace/pseuds/bottomlinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alpha!Harry and Alpha!Louis meet in a bar, and have hot lady sex on a pool table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hot as a fever (rattling bones)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as soon as I found out that Girl!Direction Month was a thing - even though the idea had floated through my head for a while. I really love A/B/O verse fics and I really wanted to have a go at seeing that verse at work with our leading men as leading ladies. 
> 
> It is, however, my first foray into the one direction ff world. 
> 
> Be gentle with me.
> 
> (If you aren't sure about the particulars of the A/B/O verse, [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/403644/chapters/665489) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/766040/chapters/1435445) are two good primer links that should help you out.)

To say that it’s busy when Harry arrives at the bar would be a fairly significant understatement. She’s not late – fifteen minutes early, as a matter of fact – and it’s only just past nine, but she’d forgotten how much busier it got on the three day weekends. On Ben’s orders, she ignores the admin jobs she’d planned to sort out before her shift, and head straights for the floor. She’s barely tied the apron around her waist when Niall calls for her attention.

“Thank fucking Christ, Styles,” he hollers from his side of the bar. “Where the fuck have you been?” He’s held up by about a dozen customers at the bar – a pen tucked messily behind his ear as he mixes what looks like a pink cosmopolitan.  

Harry rolls her eyes. “I’m early, asshole.” She leans up on the bar, the crowd parting a little for her. She feels the familiar appreciative gaze of the already drunk patrons and shoots one of them a sly look. They always tip better when they think she’s interested.

When she looks back at Niall to take the first of the drink orders, he’s glaring at her knowingly. “Get a move on,” he threatens. “And take your feminine wiles wit’ ya!”

She shoots him a pout, big wide eyes the picture of innocence. “Wiles? Me?”

“Get out of here,” he glowers.

She winks at him. It’s always been a bit of a game between the two of them. Sure she’s got the curls and the dimples and the long, tanned legs – but he’s blonde, incredibly fit and _Irish_. As long as she’s got her suppressors on and he doesn’t, the cash they take home each night has always been relatively equal.

Alpha has always worked well on Niall. It suits him to his very core – his enthusiastic personality, his bouncing gait and his wickedly happy smile all the perfect indicators of a content, healthy alpha.

But that isn’t to say it doesn’t suit Harry. She’s always been a little lazier about it, to be honest, but at her core – being an alpha is perfect for her. Something about the relaxed swing of her hips and the chaotic spring in her curls had always demanded attention – and even respect.

As she turns, Harry adjusts her head scarf and moves straight for the first table. It’s a group of five or six, all together, crowded around one of the corner booths. They’re just one of the groups out celebrating the extra day off, but they’re a little younger than usual crowd. Harry had been disappointed when she’d gotten the job initially, always hoping to see the younger guys or girls who might want to take her home – but the pub is a fair way from the university and she’s since learned not many of the students bothered with the commute.

This group, for some reason, had apparently decided the extra ten minutes walking time was worth it. When they see Harry approach with their drinks, a few of them make loud, grateful sounds – they’ve obviously been here a little longer than Harry has. It isn’t unusual for people to get a little more excited when their drinks come over – but the distinct groan of disappointment peppered in with the cheers is definitely new.

Harry hesitates in her approach, her eyebrows furrowing. “Uh, two sodas, G and T and a raspberry vodka, right?” she checks.  

One of the girls, the picture of elegant beauty with her dark hair and darker eyes, leans forward. Resting her chin on her hand, she looks up at Harry with a pout. “What happened to the Irish guy?” she asks.

Ah. Of course.

Fucking Niall.

“Stuck behind the bar, darling,” Harry says with a gentle smile. She begins setting out the drinks as the girl’s companion’s motion for them. “But I’ll be sure to mention you asked.”

It’s a good way to garner interest, Harry knows. Lines like that either have the girls blushing and backtracking immediately, or smirking and leaning even closer. It doesn’t surprise Harry in the slightest when the girl does the second, licking her lips devilishly. “You do that,” she practically purrs. “ _Darling.”_

Harry shivers a little.

“For fucks sake, Zayn,” a voice comes from behind Harry. “At least let me get my drink before you scare her away

Harry turns around quickly to place the source of the second voice only to once again feel slightly floored by the image that greets her. Apparently everyone in this group is preternaturally beautiful – not that Harry’s complaining.

The second girl has sharp eyes and an even sharper jaw line, her high cheekbones tapering off to a thin, delicate smile. She’s small, much shorter than Harry is, but there’s a fierceness to the bright blue of her eyes that has Harry staring for a second.

“Raspberry vodka’s for me,” the girl says, reaching for the pink coloured drink. Her eyes rake over Harry’s taller form for a second, her gaze appreciative as she lifts the drink to her lips. There’s a smirk lingering at the corner of her mouth, one that promises mischief and chaos, and Harry suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to taste it.

The girl pauses to take a sip from her drink, and as she does her eye rake the bar. When the face she’s searching for doesn’t jump out at her, she turns a frown to Zayn. “When’s Liam getting here?” she asks.

Harry should probably leave. It’s not as though she’s been invited into the conversation.

She doesn’t go anywhere.

Zayn sighs. “He’s not,” she says, lifting her phone and giving it a little shake. “He just texted, Soph’s heat’s come early so he had to leave tonight.”

Harry’s always liked the sound of that. Not so much the heat itself – she’s heard all the stories about how uncomfortable it is, and she hates the stigma that surrounds it. Not that she knows any omegas personally, but Harry has always felt she has some idea of how it would feel. Her rut is, by definition, the exact opposite of a heat, but it gives her an insight into that feeling – the loss of control, the overwhelming instincts to take, to own, to fuck. It’s humiliating, in that way, to feel like a slave to your own body. And it must be so much worse when it’s combined with the vulnerability that omegas have to face during their heats. To be honest, it’s no wonder that seventy-three percent of England’s omegas are on some type of suppressant.

So no, it’s not the mention of heat that catches Harry’s attention. Instead, it’s the way that Zayn mentions it, so casually, so open. Whoever Liam and Soph are, Harry thinks that their relationship must be something special indeed; that their routine could be so ingrained in their routines that it’s part of a casual conversation between their friends while a total stranger stands idly by.  

Harry wants that quite desperately.

The idea’s intoxicating really – the thought of having a mate to go home to every night, to love and protect and look after when they need it. Harry wants to be the butt of stupid couple’s jokes and lewd comments when it reaches that time of the month.

Have to find the mate first, though. Working nights in a bar and studying during her free time didn’t leave much time to be social.

And, well, lingering at stranger’s tables and listening to their conversations isn’t helping her much either.

“You alright, there?” the girl checks, her eyes sparkling.

Harry snaps out of it when the words register and feels her cheeks colour instantly. She knows what it’s like to be on the other side of lecherous stares, so it’s a bit humiliating to be caught doing it to someone else.

“Right,” she says, clearing her throat awkwardly and taking a step back. “Sorry, was that all you guys needed?”

She glances around the booth again, avoiding the girl’s eyes. Most of their friends seemed to have missed the exchange, caught up in discussing the latest Man U game – but the dark haired girl, Zayn, is watching Harry with a wicked grin.

“For now,” she says, shifting her look to her friend and quirking a brow. There’s a message in her look that Harry can’t translate – but her friend seems to understand immediately.

Harry risks a glance back in her direction and sees that she’s shifted slightly, leaning her weight against the booth table. It looks like there aren’t enough seats for all of them, Harry notices when she looks for the second time, which is why the shorter girl is standing.

Tugging on her hair nervously, Harry clears her throat again. “Uhhm – there’s a few spare chairs out the back,” she starts.

The smaller girl watches her for a second, waiting. Harry flushes.

“Uh,” she continues, “did you want me to go and get you one?”

The girl doesn’t reply, just keeps watching Harry. There’s a smile on her face, sharp and inquisitive, like there’s something she knows about Harry that Harry’s somehow missed. Harry lifts an awkward hand to check that there’s nothing on her face, waiting for the answer.

“Lou—” _Lou_ , Harry thinks. “—don’t be a tit,” Zayn interrupts their stare to whack her friend in the side. Then she leans forward. “She’d love a chair, babes. If you don’t mind.”

It’s a little easier to sort herself out once she’s got instructions to follow, so Harry nods her head jerkily. “It’s no worries at all,” she says, her words a little smoother now. “Be back in a tick.”

She spins around and heads for the backroom. It clears her head a little and immediately she’s cringing. God, could she have been more awkward? It takes about five seconds to get to the back room and find the chair, maybe another ten to struggle back with it through the crowds – but in that time Harry finds it incredibly easy to relive every second of their conversation, wincing every time she recalls the stupid shit she’d said.

By the time she’s back with the chair, she’s resolved to do better.

“There you go, love,” she says, the picture of casual interest. Lou’s quirks a brow, the corner of her lip twitching up. Harry tries not to focus on it, sets the chair down and shoots them both one of her best smiles. “Give us a shout if you need anything else, yeah?”

Then, feeling bold, she winks down at Lou before turning and heading back to the bar.

.

It doesn’t really go away. Harry does her job, of course, darting around the pub delivering drinks to their rightful owners. Niall gets bored of the bar after about an hour of making the drinks, so they swap out for a little bit and Niall gets his chance on the floor. He presses up against the bar with new orders at around eleven, an elated grin on his face.

“You should fucking _see_ the girl who just gave me her number,” he gushes.

Harry grins. “Long dark hair?” she guesses. “Bone structure sharp enough to kill a man?”

“I think I’m in love,” Niall sighs breathlessly.

Harry lets out a bark of laughter. Taking a few seconds to sort himself out, Niall then gives her all the new drink orders. Harry’s not particularly surprised when she’s asked to make another raspberry vodka. It’s an easy drink to do, obviously, but Harry takes a little extra time with it. Right before she hands the glass to Niall, she plucks one of the cocktail umbrellas from its spot on the bench and settles it in the corner of the glass.

Niall quirks a brow before glancing back at the table. Harry follows her lead to see that both Zayn and Lou are watching them from their place. Harry nods her head casually, fighting furiously against the instinct to flinch and look away at having been caught. Lou smirks.

Niall faces Harry again with a similar look on his face – still a smirk, but instead of the dirty promise Lou’s entails, his is all smug. “So that’s how it is, is it?” he says.

Harry rolls her eyes. “Not two seconds ago you were saying you’re in love,” she reminds him.

“I am!” Niall says. “I am in love, I _love_ her.”

Harry pauses in making the next drink to lean forward and fix her best friend with a sly glare. “Alright then,” she says. “What’s her name?”

Niall stops.

Then Niall pouts.

“I don’t know!!” he whines. “Oh god, you’re right. I don’t deserve her.”

Essentially, Niall is a knob-head.

Laughing, Harry leans back and focuses on the drink. She can’t quite stop herself from glancing at the two girls every few seconds, but this time she’s a little more subtle about it. “It’s Zayn,” she says, taking pity on the Irish alpha. “Her names Zayn.”

“ _Zayn_ ,” Niall sighs.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry says.

The condescension is probably what gets Niall’s attention, because he snaps out of his day dream for a second to fix her with a glare. “Oh, like you can talk,” he says defensively, tapping on the small umbrella. “What’s her friend’s name?”

Harry feels the blush creep up her neck and she can’t quite keep the small smile from creeping onto her face. “Lou,” she says quietly.

“ _Loouuuu,_ ” Niall teases her.

“Shut up, she’s lovely,” Harry says – and then abruptly looks down because _what is wrong with her?_ This is the sort of thing Niall will tease her endlessly for, and here she is giving him a veritable boatload of future ammo.

Well, she thinks. He’s bound to be a bit distracted tonight. Maybe he’ll forget.

“Holy shit,” Niall says. “I will never forget this.”

Ugh.

“Ugh,” Harry says.

The bar is much emptier than it was when Harry had arrived, so Niall has both the time and space to settle on the bar stool for a second. “Reckon she’s a beta, then?” he says.

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry hisses. It’s never polite to talk about a stranger’s gender, particularly while they work.

Niall shrugs. “I’m just saying,” he says. “Can’t really get a good read, can you? I was with them for about five minutes just before, and I still don’t have any clue.”

Harry had noticed the same thing, belatedly, after she’d left the table herself. Usually it’s easy to figure out, scent and hormones always a little stronger in pubs like these, but the two girls had been uniquely free of any identifying scent. So sure, Harry’s a little curious – but she’s working, so she tries not to think about it.

“Get back to work, asshole,” she tells him good naturedly, shoving him off the bar stool. “Go woo your lady love.”

Niall sighs wistfully, before vanishing with the tray of drinks.

.

It would be fairly obnoxious of Harry to say that she knew Lou was going to come and talk to her before the night was done, but she did have a fairly good feeling. The looks she kept shooting Lou were hardly unrequited, the small girl returning a fair share of sly glances back in Harry’s direction.

So it doesn’t really surprise Harry when Lou appears, sliding onto one of the bar stools around midnight, as the crowds in the bar really start dying down. There are only a couple of groups left now, maybe ten people altogether – Lou and Zayn’s other friends seem to have said their goodbyes. It a little easier to handle with less people, so Harry can relax a little behind the bar.

And talk to attractive girls, as it turns out.

What does take Harry by surprise, just for a moment, is the way that Lou leans forward, crossing her arms under her boobs and pushing the aforementioned appendages a little higher in her low cut v-neck tee.

Harry blinks, and stares.

She’s not a good person, and she acknowledges that.

“Hi,” Lou says.

“Uhh,” Harry says, dragging her gaze up to meet Lou’s smug smile. “Hello.”

“So,” Lou says, running her tongue across her bottom lip. (Fuck, there’s nowhere safe to look.) “I have a few questions for you.”

Harry’s throat suddenly feels a little dry. She struggles to swallow for a second, then nods her head. “Okay,” she says.

“First of all,” Lou says, “I’d like to know your name. Zayn and I have just been calling you _legs_.”

Harry thanks the sun and the moon and all the stars that she wore her short skirt and heels tonight.

Lou goes on. “And I quite like that, to be honest with you – but there’s a hint of insincerity that I’d like to get rid of. Objectifying you, and such.”

Harry clears her throat. “No,” she says. “Uh, objectify away.”

Lou smirks and just watches her for a second.

Harry coughs. “It’s Harry,” she says then. “I’m Harry.”

“Short for Harriet?” Lou checks.

“Absolutely not,” Harry says.

Lou laughs – letting out a free, open sound that makes Harry’s heart beat three times faster. She could listen to this girl laugh for hours and not get bored, Harry thinks.

Lou doesn’t quite notice the effect that her laugh has on Harry, and just continues her line of questioning. “Harold, then?”

“What about your name?” Harry interrupts her. As much as Harry likes nicknames, she’d much rather stay _legs_ then become _Harold._ It’s a little bit less sexy, to be honest. “We’ve got to keep these things even, you know,” she says. “So no one feels like they’re at a disadvantage.” 

It’s clear from the sly look on Lou’s face that the abrupt change of topic hasn’t gone unnoticed, but she doesn’t press the issue. “Well,” she says. “If we’re maintaining the balance – I’m Louis.”

Harry smiles. “It’s lovely to meet you, Louis,” she says.

“You as well, _Harold_ ,” Louis says.

Damn it.

Before Harry can protest as enthusiastically as she’d like, Zayn arrives again to interrupt. Only this time, instead of holding a G&T in her hand, she’s got a very blissed out Irishman.

“Wotcher, Harry,” Niall says.

“Nialler,” Harry nods at him.

Niall finished his shift about half an hour ago – earlier than Harry because he’d started at seven, not nine – and had immediately headed for Zayn’s table. He’s had a few to drink as well, but not nearly enough to account for the high look on his face. That seemed to be entirely the fault of the slim, Gucci-model lookalike holding his hand. 

Zayn looks quite pleased with herself, a gorgeous look of smug content on her features. She leans close to Louis – Harry feels a pang of jealousy, which is just fucking ridiculous because she’s only known Louis for like an _hour_ for fucks sake – and says, “We’re getting out of here.”

Louis nods and smiles easily. “Alright then, love,” she says. “Make sure you text me a picture of his licence.”

Harry frowns. What?

“What?” Harry says.

Louis pats Harry’s hand gently and smiles. “Just to be sure he’s not a rapist, love.” She says.

Which, you know, is fair enough.

“Already done,” Zayn says. She turns and glances at Harry, the same secretive little smirk on her face that she’d worn earlier. “Thanks for all the drinks, legs,” she says.

And yeah, Harry likes that nickname _way_ more.

Louis scoffs. “Get out of here, you skank,” she scolds – Harry feels a little thrill of warmth run down her spine at the disgruntled scowl on Louis’ face. “Take your leprechaun and have your merry way with him,” she says.

Niall looks euphorically happy as Zayn stands. She brinks one of her manicured hands up, scrapes it down his chest and begins to shove him towards the door.

“Be gentle with him!” Harry says, as Zayn drags Niall out into the night.  

A few other patrons pepper out after Zayn and Niall, quieting the bar further. There’s only one group left now, a very drunk gathering of women – who seem to be just getting started. They haven’t slowed on their drink orders, but Harry doesn’t mind too much. The clubs will have all started to open, only a block away – so she’s fairly confident that they’ll head off soon enough.

Her conundrum is Louis, it seems. She’s still leaning forward, fingers toying with the small umbrella in her empty glass.

“You off soon, then?” she asks.

Harry feels a little fission of excitement run through her. She’s certain she’s not reading into this, that Louis is just as interested as she is. The way Louis shifts draws attention back to the opening of her shirt, the bare skin and – fuck, she look so soft. Harry swallows thickly at the thought of getting her hands on her.

“Not quite,” Harry says regretfully. “I’m here for another hour, then I’ve got to close.”

There’s a chance that this is where Louis pulls out. It’s not as though Harry’s never read a person wrong – and even if she hasn’t, and Louis _is_ interested in girls, it could be very easy for Louis to decide that Harry isn’t worth the two hour wait. It’s certainly not as though Louis wouldn’t have other takers if she decided to head to the clubs instead of hanging around.

Harry lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when Louis just shrugs and leans further forward. “Guess you’ll be needing some company then, Curly,” she says. “How about you make me another drink?”

Harry grins wickedly.

.

When the final patrons do eventually make their exit, Harry and Louis have both had a fair amount more to drink. Technically, Harry’s not supposed to let anyone else inside while she closes the shop – but what Ben doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Do you want to check out a few of the clubs after this?” Harry asks. She doesn’t want Louis leaving, if Harry guides them to the wrong club. She wants to spend as much time with this girl as she can.

Louis’ eyes sparkle, and she nods over her drink. “If you want,” she says.

Harry wants. Harry wants _a lot_ , but not quite to go clubbing. She swallows thickly. “Alright then,” she says, ignoring the very vivid images currently flying through her head. “Sounds good.”

Louis just nods, and takes a sip of her drink.

Harry doesn’t waste time. She packs up the chairs, cleans the bar bench and puts the liquor back in its place as quickly as she can. The she slips around to Louis’ side of the bar and leans up next to the smaller girl, smiling shyly.

“Just give me a sec to grab my bag, yeah?” Harry checks. “What club did you want to go to?”

Louis considers her for a second, breathing carefully. Harry can see the thoughts flying through her head, considering something that Harry can’t quite figure out. A tiny part of her wonders if Louis’ changed her mind, if she’s decided Harry’s not quite worth it.

Then Louis sighs. Harry braces herself.

“You know what,” Louis says. “I’m not quite sure I want to wait.”

Harry’s initially not sure what that means, frowns slightly and goes to ask – but then Louis’ settles a hand at the back of Harry’s head, and pulls her forward. Her lips meet Harry’s before Harry can even figure out what’s happening, and the taller girl lets out a quiet squeak of surprise.

Then, of course, she sinks into it blissfully. Oh yeah. _Oh yeah._ She can get behind this.

She brings her own hands up to clutch at Louis’ hips, slotting their bodies together as closely as she can. Her body is hot and warm and welcoming, and Louis seems just as enthusiastic as Harry is.

Louis bites down on Harry’s bottom lip, tugs on Harry’s curls.

This is probably what it’s like to have a religious experience, Harry thinks. She still can’t quite scent Louis, can’t figure out if she’s a beta or an omega – but for the life of her, Harry doesn’t care.

They both grow more urgent as the kiss deepens, clutching at each other and breathing hotly. Louis moves slightly, detaching their lips and moving desperately to mouth at Harry’s collarbone.

“God,” Louis pants into Harry’s neck, opening her mouth and letting her teeth scrape against the tendons there. “Fuck, you smell good.”

Harry’s hand scratches distractedly through Louis’ hair, pulling her closer as her hips rock forward. Her legs spread a little, letting the seam of her jeans catch against Louis’ sharp hipbone, and Harry can’t help the soft mewling sound that escapes her. Louis’ hands come around and down, curling around Harry’s body and pressing insistently at her arse. The movement rocks them together, and both girls pause to revel in the feeling for a moment. Harry hasn’t moved like this against another person since she was a horny teenager, pressed into her family couch by one of the boys from her high school. It barely compares to this, to the feeling of having Louis’ petite body pressed so near – rubbing as desperately close as they can manage.

It doesn’t take anything for Louis to pull at the ties of Harry’s apron. Louis’ fingers skirt the hem of Harry’s shirt for a bare second, before pushing upwards, dragging cold lines against Harry’s torso. She pushes Harry’s bra up and out of the way, her hand clutching Harry’s breast tightly – rolling and squeezing the flesh.

Harry lets out a breathless sigh when Louis’ cold fingers flick at her nipple, catching the bud and twisting. “Fuck,” Harry sighs.

“Yeah?” Louis pants into her ear. “Like that?”

Harry’s hips rock up a little harsher then, answering for her. Louis hums appreciatively and continues playing, tugging and pulling at Harry until her chest feels red and raw. She keeps her focus on Harry’s neck as well, her teeth and tongue lavishing the skin there with attention.

Then she bites down harshly and Harry jolts.

Fuck, she thinks, the claim muddling her head a little bit. Louis’ an alpha.

It’s not unheard of, alphas coupling together – but it’s not exactly the norm. Alphas, within a pair, are usually the dominant partner – pairing up with betas or omegas who are biologically designed to fit and submit to them. Alpha pairings are always a little more volatile; two dominant personalities in such close quarters don’t always mesh well.

But now, here, held between Louis and the bar, Harry’s never felt anything _better_.

No wonder, she thinks. Louis can take everything Harry has to give, and give just as much back in return. And suddenly, all Harry wants to do is give.

She pulls away from Louis’ hot embrace, just for a second, and considers the girl. She looks ruined, hair mussed and lips bitten red, and Harry feels a flood of heat between her legs. She’s pressed Harry up against the bar, dangerously close to the stack of glasses Harry had just stacked. And as much as Harry wants to pull Louis close again, lean up on the bar and wrap her legs around Louis’ waist, it’s probably just a touch hazardous.

Louis seems quite put out that they’re no longer attached.

“Wha—?” she protests, looking a little dazed.

Harry can’t help but swoop back in and reclaim her lips just for another second. Then she pulls back. “Come on,” she says – and she grabs Louis’ arm. She pulls her away from the bar and considers the rest of the pub for a second. There’s the booths – but that would be unsanitary, and Ben could get in trouble – the bar is more dangerous than anything and any of the chairs are too unstable.

The pool table though. The pool table will do quite nicely.

“Here,” Harry says dragging Louis towards the large table and without pause, lifting Louis up onto the table. Louis takes a second to catch on, but when she does that wicked smile of hers reappears.

“Mmhm,” she says, lying back on the green fuzz. “ _Naughty_.”

Harry crawls up and over her, stopping at Louis’ waist and reaching for the button on Louis’ skinny jeans. “Shut up,” she says, as she pops the button. Louis kicks her heels off, but otherwise stays still as Harry unzips her. It takes a little bit of effort to yank the jeans down, but it’s worth it once they’re off. Louis’ legs are tanned and smooth, and Harry wants to spend hours licking and biting at them.

Now’s probably not the time though.

Louis doesn’t just lie there though. She pushes herself up and whips her top off over her head, exposing a sweet, white bra that matches her panties. Then she tugs at Harry’s shirt. “Off,” she orders.

Harry complies. She’s a little less presentable, she thinks – her bra is still pushed up on one side, from Louis’ delicious assault on her breast. It doesn’t match either, just a run of the mill blue bra and black underwear – so she just reaches back and unclips the bra, tossing it out of their way.

“Fucking hell,” Louis says as Harry pushes her own skirt off, leaving her just in panties as she towers above the smaller girl. “Look at you.”

Harry pushes her back with one hand on her shoulder, and leans forward to playfully nip at Louis’ collarbone. “I’d rather look at you,” she whispers.

“Fuck,” Louis says. She lets her head fall back with a thump, and spreads her legs a little.

Harry goes for the bra first. She bites through the material, palming the other roughly, her hips grinding down on Louis’ tanned thigh. It doesn’t take much for Harry to reach around and unclip the bra, leaving Louis bare for her. She moves back with renewed vigour, sucking Louis’ nipple into her mouth and tonguing at the tip.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis moans lowly.

Harry just has to pull off at that. “Just me,” she says cheekily.

“You’re a fucking loser,” Louis says. Then she takes a firm grip of Harry’s curls and pushes her back down, arching her back and pressing her breast against Harry’s lips. “Don’t stop.”  

Harry has no intention of ever stopping, to be perfectly honest. As she treats Louis’ right side to the same attention the left received, her hand trails down Louis’ stomach, catching at the seam of Louis’ underwear. Just that touch has Louis’ hips bucking a little bit, and Harry can’t help herself. She slips her hand in, her fingers taking no time at all to find Louis’ clit and press down. Louis lets out a loud, hot, moan.

“Fuck,” Harry’s says against her soft skin, rubbing her fingers in small circles against Louis’ rocking heat. Louis brings one hand up to clutch weakly at Harry’s arm. Her nails dig in, scratching sharply against Harry’s skin, but Harry doesn’t care – in fact, she barely even notices. Every part of her feels electrified – every point that they touch sparking like a live wire.

She reaches up with her other hand to curl her hand around Louis’ neck, pulling her head closer until their lips meet. The kiss in unrefined, both of them too caught up in each other for any kind of finesse. Mostly, Harry just pants hotly into Louis’ mouth – groans, when the smaller girl bites down on her bottom lip.

“Come on,” Louis says, her hips writhing underneath Harry’s touch. “Come on, come on, _more_.”

Harry leans back, takes in Louis’ breathless state and swallows thickly. “Yeah,” she says hoarsely. “Yeah, okay, yeah.” She shifts backwards a little and tugs Louis’ pants down. She presses at her thighs, spreading her and delicately pushing a finger inside.

Louis lets out a soft cry. “Two, do two,” she orders.

Harry complies, slipping a second in with the first and curling, reaching for that spot.

“Ohh, f-fuck!” Louis reaches down and grabs Harry’s wrist. She holds her there, rocking on Harry’s fingers, and for a second it’s too much. Harry leans down, bites at Louis’ hip, before moving slightly down and pressing a sweet kiss to clit just as she curls her fingers for a second time.

“Oh—!” Louis says, fingers threading through Harry’s curls and holding her close. “Yep, good – right there, fuck.”

Harry can’t quite help it, pausing for a second to grin against Louis’ wet flesh. She licks delicately at Louis, breathing in Louis’ hot, powerful scent. An unfamiliar feeling curls in her gut, a desperate desire to submit to Louis and give her fucking _everything_.

And it kind of seems like Louis’ at a similar loss.

“What—” She breathes, rocking her hips forward onto Harry’s tongue. “Who—where did you learn to do this?”

Harry’s always loved going down on girls. It’s softer than it is with boys, sweeter and more exciting. She loves the way girls whine under her tongue, the way they rock up desperately asking for more. She’s good at it as well, an oral fixation combining perfectly with her eagerness to please.

So Harry pulls back to shoot Louis a grin. “Practice,” she says cheekily.

A flash of a scowl crosses Louis’ face and she tugs angrily on Harry’s hair, directing her face back to Louis’ cunt. “Don’t fucking talk about _practice_ ,” she snarls.

She’s jealous, Harry’s heart sings. She doesn’t need to be. If Harry had her way, she’d never practice on anyone else.

Still, she can’t quite help but smirk up at the ruined girl lying before her. “You asked.”

Louis rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. She just groans again, hips moving a little more desperately as she humps Harry’s pointed tongue. It doesn’t take long for her to come, writhing under Harry’s tongue. She lets out a soft, high whine as she peaks, nails scraping against Harry’s scalp – completely displacing the head scarf finally, letting Harry’s curls fall wild. Harry licks her through it, bathing her with attention until she starts to whimper from the overstimulation.

“Fuck,” Louis gasps, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Harry grins smugly as she crawls back up, pressing her messy lips against Louis’. It doesn’t seem like Louis minds tasting herself on Harry’s tongue, lifting her arms to wrap around Harry’s neck, and her legs to wrap around Harry’s waist.

“You are so fucking hot,” Harry says.

Louis scoffs weakly. She’s turned a little lethargic after her orgasm, and seeing it makes Harry feel impossibly smug. Yeah, she’s that good. Louis’ attitude is as strong as ever, though.

“Have you ever fucking looked in a mirror?” she demands.

Harry moves slightly, pressing her grin into Louis’ neck, before biting softly. “Stop,” she laughs, “you’re making me blush.”

Louis pants out a tired laugh, scoffing a little as she tugs at Harry’ arms. “Come on,” she says. “Come up here.”

Harry’s confused for a second. “What?” she says.

Louis rolls her eyes like Harry’s an idiot, and motions a little more urgently. “Up here,” she pulls at Harry’s pants, scooting her own body down.

“I don’t—” Harry still doesn’t understand.

“God,” Louis groans. “I want you to ride my face, alright?”

Harry blinks down at her for a second. There’s a very good chance that she’s in love.

“Right,” she says her voice suddenly a little hoarse. “Okay. That’s – that’s new.”

Louis smirks.

Harry doesn’t last very long at all. As soon as Louis’ lips touch her, her legs feel a little weak. The way that Louis flicks her tongue is almost a revelation, compared to the other people who’ve done this for Harry. There’s nothing for Harry to hold onto as she struggles to stay upright, so she ends up on all fours, rocking her hips down against Louis’ mouth.

“I’m usually sexier than this,” she pants, trying to control her words. “I swear – _oh_ fuck, sorry.”

She grinds down when Louis’ tongue reaches the perfect spot, letting out a weak cry.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Louis’ muffled voice berates her. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is.”

Then, in apparent punishment for her comment, Louis bites gently on Harry’s clit.

“ _Ohholyshit_.”

Harry can feel Louis’ smirk against her skin. Every part of her body feels like it’s on fire, growing hotter and hotter as she climbs towards her peak. She drops her weight forward, supporting herself on her elbows as she grinds against Louis’ face. She’s close already, distracted and focused entirely on the feeling of Louis’ tongue – so it takes her completely by surprise when Louis slips two fingers inside her and presses harshly against that spot.

Harry keens highly, lets out a desperate noise and presses her body down on Louis’ fingers. It’s good, it’s so, so good – and she can’t help it when she finally soars over the edge. She humps Louis’ face a little wildly, desperately chasing the high as it lasts, before gently slowing down.

It’s a little dangerous to just drop her weight there, so she forces herself to roll over as she comes down. It takes a big effort, but Harry shuffles the rest of her weight down the pool table until she can wrap herself around Louis’ limp body and pillow her head on her chest.

They both just breathe for a second. Harry’s hair feels wild, sweaty and frizzy and everywhere. She really hopes it’s not getting in Louis’ way. She stays still for a few seconds before feeling too uncomfortable, reaching up to try and tame the hair – making sure it’s not getting in Louis’ face.

“Sorry,” Harry says quietly.

Louis snorts, her whole body moving under Harry’s cheek. “Don’t apologise for your hair, Curly,” she says. “I’d kill someone for hair like that.”

“It’s pretty annoying,” Harry says.

Louis snorts again.

They fall silent, just to bask in their combined high. Harry’s body is slowly coming down from this bliss of her orgasm, her muscles suddenly a little heavier, her eyelids drooping a little. She can’t fall asleep though. Ben’s opening up tomorrow, and he’d probably not be impressed by two naked alphas lying on his pool table.

Which reminds her.  

“So,” Harry says, once she’s regained enough of her brain capacity to start a conversation. “You’re an alpha,”

There’s an abrupt thump of Louis’ heart just beneath where Harry rests her head, and she feels Lou’s body tense slightly.

“That a problem?” she says, sounding a little weary.

Harry shakes her head straight away. Conceptually, it’s a bit of a problem. It’s not really ordinary – but it was hands down the best sex Harry’s ever had. Once you go alpha, you never go back, or some shit like that. “Course not,” she says urgently. “It’s great – like, _really fucking great_ – it’s just, you know. Different.”

Louis looks down at her, considering Harry for a second before she nods. “You’re an alpha as well, aren’t you?”

Harry nods.

They’re both quiet for a second, taking it in. Then Louis sighs. “Well, that’s new.”

Harry lets out a bark of laughter. It is new, she thinks – but it’s also brilliant. Who cares if it’s a little different, when it felt the way it did.

“You’ve ruined me for all other girls,” Harry whines, giggling.

Louis looks incredibly smug when Harry glances up at her, and it makes Harry laugh a little more. Louis joins in after a second and for a few minutes they just lie together and enjoy the moment. But they can’t stay there the whole night, so eventually Harry pushes herself up and reaches for her bra. They get dressed quietly, Harry pulling her skirt back on and hunting for a few seconds to find her shirt. It’s not worth tying the headscarf again, her hair too far gone to control, so she just wraps it around her neck.

She doesn’t like seeing Louis put her clothes back on, already ready to tear them back off.

She’s never felt like this about someone, though. And Harry’s not about to let Louis walk away without at least going for it.

Now that they’re both dressed again, Louis’ looks as collected as she did when they’d walked inside. Harry is absolutely certain that she looks as wrecked as she feels. This is it then, when Louis decides whether or not Harry’s worth something long term. It’ll be different, if they’re both alphas. But Harry thinks it might be worth it. It might be really, _really_ worth it.

“So,” Louis says slowly. Her delicate smirk has settled back in its rightful place, lingering at the corners of Louis’ mouth. There’s something wicked back in her eyes, like she’s got thousands of plans that she’s not quite ready to share. “You going to take me home, then?”

Harry grins widely at her. “That’s very forward of you, young lady.”

Louis shrugs. “It’s what any respectable alpha would do,” she says. There’s a challenge in her raised eyebrow, and Harry would very much like to meet it.

Harry lets out a bark of disbelieving laughter. She can feel her heart swelling through. Louis wants to go home with her. “You’re an alpha, too!” she protests, grinning like a loon.

Louis grins wickedly. “Guess I’ll just have to take you home tomorrow night, then.” She says. “Just to make it fair.”

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say [hello](http://www.bottomlinsons.tumblr.com)


End file.
